


Hanzo’s Belly Bug

by chubbyarcher



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (but only the last sentence), Fluff, Hanzo Was Homeless, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Panic Attacks, Sickfic, Stomach Ache, domestic AU, mentions of vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 13:36:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16285574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chubbyarcher/pseuds/chubbyarcher
Summary: Hanzo unexpedly finds himself sick while at McCree’s house. Unfortunately, his weakness brings up bad memories of his past life on the street.





	Hanzo’s Belly Bug

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! I wrote this fic over a year ago, so it’s not the best thing in the world - but I went through and edited it a lil’ so I could post it, because I still kinda liked it. ^^ 
> 
> For some background info, to make this make more sense: this is from a personal AU of mine - Hanzo’s memories are from when he was homeless after leaving the Shimada Clan, and when he was very sick with nowhere to go.

It had first struck Jesse that Hanzo must have been sick when he asked what Hanzo wanted for dinner - and he replied with, “I’m . . . actually not hungry. You can go ahead and cook whatever you would like.”

 _Hanzo?_ A stubborn Shimada, so willing to let McCree decide dinner when he had given him the chance to pick? Something was wrong here, and Jesse could sense it - both in the way he talked and the way he held his body. At first, he figured it must have been stress. Perhaps a bad bout of seasonal depression had caught up to his boyfriend - but before he could ask, he heard Hanzo complain about feeling nauseous - gently gripping at his stomach. 

Now, _THIS_ was concerning to him. A stomach flu had been going around lately, and what with Hanzo having gone shopping in the overcrowded, local grocery store lately, it wouldn’t have been a stretch to assume he had caught it in such a tightly-squeezed environment. “Is that all, darlin’? Or are you feelin’ bad in any other ways, too?”

“Mmn, I suppose I’m feeling a little lightheaded . . . and a bit cold.” Hanzo quivered for a second, hiccuping and instinctively raising his hand up to his mouth - but luckily, the debilitating feeling of losing control of his stomach had left as quickly as it had come on. False alarm. 

Jesse frowned. That wasn’t good - even more symptoms that lined up with his suspicions. “Come on, Hanzo. I’ll cook you somethin’ in a bit, but for now, let me get you to lie down for a minute so I can check your temperature,” he insisted, patting Hanzo gently on the back. Hanzo seemed to stifle a gag in response, and decided it wasn’t worth it to try and let his pride argue with Jesse - so he did as he was told. 

After a short search through his cabinet, the younger man returned to his bedroom with a small thermometer and sat on the bed beside his lover. “Open up for me, please,” he instructed Hanzo, and gently placed the object underneath his tongue when he obeyed. He heard a soft beep, removed it, and grimaced at what he saw. “Hun’erd an’ one. I was afraid so.”

He reached for Hanzo’s wrist and placed his thumb to it - again with the same loving gentleness, as if he were holding an incredibly fragile object. After a few seconds, he nodded to himself. “A quick pulse, too. All the tell-tale signs. Looks like you’ve got yourself a belly bug, pumpkin.”

Hanzo groaned weakly, shuddering from chills, cheeks a slight shade of pink from loss of his pride. It hadn’t been very long since the two started _officially_ dating - perhaps five months, at the most - and Hanzo still wasn’t completely used to letting his guard down, or letting himself be taken care of. In the back of his mind, he knew his inner-former-rich-kid - the spoiled brat that he once was - would love nothing more than to have Jesse on call. However, a much darker part of him - one grizzled by a tough few years on the streets where he was treated with hostility and disgust - had given him a tough outer shell that feared vulnerability. 

Nevertheless, Hanzo loved and trusted his boyfriend greatly. He knew that his pride was an issue he would need to overcome. ‘In time,’ he thought to himself, as he now waited for dinner to be brought to him in bed. ‘In time I will get over this. For him. He deserves it.’

Hanzo had begun to doze off when he was awoken by the smell of chicken and broth. In walked Jesse, carrying a small meal on a tray. On the tray sat a bowl of soup with chicken and vegetables, a stack of crackers, a bottle of water, and a few strawberries - Hanzo’s favorite. Jesse saw his eyes light up when he spotted the fruit, and he chuckled in reply as he sat the tray down in front of him. Hanzo sat up, and Jesse sat down on the bed, close beside him. “Easy now, sugar. Don’t go scarfin’ them down and making yourself sicker’n you already are.”

“I’ll try not to . . .” Hanzo snorted softly, attempting to pick up the spoon so that he could eat - but his hands were far too shaky, and even once he had made a successful attempt, the shaking had travelled into his arm. As long as the spoon was in his hands, no soup would remain in it. For about a minute he tried by himself - asking the other man to give him just ONE more chance, _he HAS this_ \- until eventually the frustration became too much, and he set the spoon back into the bowl and began to tear up, much to his own horror. 

_Wow, he really was pathetic, wasn’t he?_ At least, that’s what he thought. Between the memories of all his past street-sicknesses, and of the agonizing winter nights where he shook like this, something had gone off in his head. And that something wasn’t good. 

“Woah - heyyy now, baby. Angel. You okay? What’s eatin’ you?” Jesse gasped. The change in his attitude had been eerily sudden. 

“I-I am sorry that you must see me like this,” Hanzo choked out, his body shrinking in shame and his face turning away from Jesse’s. “I never wanted anyone else to ever have to see me like this again. This is . . . humiliating . . . I don’t - _hic_ \- deserve your kindness.”

Jesse scooted closer to Hanzo, moved the tray from his lap onto a nightstand table, and opened up his arms. He waited for him to nod in reply, then he wrapped his arms around him - after pulling his serape around them both. Like this, the cowboy could actually FEEL Hanzo’s shaking. His breathing had become irregular - Hanzo’s memories on top of his sickened mind and body had most certainly evolved into a panic attack of some sort. Jesse took his hand in his own. 

“Breeeathe, Hanzo. Breathe. Everything will be okay. Okay? Squeeze twice if you’re able to breathe. Lemme know you’re breathin’.”

Two hard squeezes and a few gasps for air. 

“That’s it. Good. You’re doing good. Is it okay if I get closer? If I hold ya? Let’s say one squeeze is yes. Two is no.”

There was about a half a minute pause, then Hanzo squeezed his hand once. Jesse obeyed, moving so that he was now right behind Hanzo - wrapped fully in his serape now - and Hanzo was leaning back onto his chest. With a few seconds of arrangement, Hanzo wiggled so that he was laying in Jesse’s arms. He was breathing more easily now, but his breath was still jagged and unusual. 

“Want me to sing to ya? Or just want some quiet?”

Two squeezes. Quite understandable. 

The two sat there for a few minutes, as Hanzo continued to shake from sickness. Jesse ran his mechanical hand through his hair after gaining his permission, still holding hands with the other in case it was needed. Ten minutes passed like this, allowing Hanzo time to come back down from his panic. Jesse didn’t mind at all - he had even begun to slowly rock Hanzo in his embrace to further soothe him. 

Finally, Hanzo spoke in a soft, hoarse voice - “I . . . I am alright now. I apologize for this, I was not ready for . . . _that,_ for those memories, or to find myself so weak–”

“Shhhh. Darlin’. You got nothin’ to be sorry for. I know you’re beating yourself up in that head of yours, and saying things like that only reinforce those bad ideas. I’m proud of you, I’m glad you’re trying to be honest with your feelings. This ain’t your fault.”

Hanzo seemed to think this over for a second, closing his eyes and sighing deeply. “. . . Thank you, Jesse. For this chance at redemption, even when I am at my worst.” Before he could say another word of gratitude, he was interrupted by his own stomach, growling and burbling either in hunger or illness - it was impossible to tell. He winced, and Jesse kissed the top of his head. 

“No need ta thank me. It’s no chore to love you, it’s a privilege. You still want your dinner, I’m supposing? How about I go ahead and feed it to you so you don’t have to worry about spilling anything while you’re still feeling sick n’ shaky?”

Hanzo’s cheeks flushed - but then he remembered : _Don’t let your pride get ahold of you. Love is not a chore for him. Besides. You’re sick._ “. . . Yes. That would be just fine.”

Jesse took the soup bowl from the tray and held it in his mechanical hand - the heat wouldn’t bother him that way. Hanzo had moved from his previous position and was now lying back on the pillows, the brain-fog of sickness starting to slowly catch up to him. He opened his mouth whenever instructed and drank the soup that had been made for him. It was still warm - and the heat did make him feel a bit better. 

Slowly but surely, he made a dent in the food. Once the soup was gone, Jesse took the hint that he was beginning to tire - and, perhaps, he would feel worse if he ate anymore - so he cleaned everything up, kissing Hanzo’s feverish forehead before returning to the kitchen. 

He later returned to bed to find Hanzo already on the verge of sleep - he had removed his shirt and pants already, calmly laying in his dragon-print boxers. Jesse chuckled at the sight as a smile fell over his cheeks. He climbed into bed beside Hanzo, his chest up against his back, and his lips pressing to the back of his neck. Ever so gently, his free, flesh hand found it’s way to the smaller man’s stomach and began to rub and massage in slow, hypnotic movements. Simple countryman medicine - belly rubs can soothe even the nastiest of tummy aches.

“G’night, babydoll,” Jesse whispered in his ear, his tiredness transforming his voice into a sort of low and gruff rumble, making his accent more apparent. “As soon as yer better, I’m gonna cook you up your favorite foods . . . And we’ll make a real yummy cake for just us to eat, angel. Lots of chocolate and strawberries.”

“I’d like that . . .” Hanzo whispered, releasing a small hum of acknowledgement and lifting the corner of his mouth into a smile, but he was not able to manage much more before sleep overtook him. 

Jesse recalls that, yes, it was in _this moment_ \- so perfectly fragile and precious, the prideful and self-reliant Hanzo relaxing under the touch of hands so gently holding his weakened body. It was in this moment that he decided that he wanted to be beside him all his life. 

This thought did not falter since then - even the very next morning, when he was pulling his beloved’s hair back as he rejected his breakfast, and cradling him as he shook once more.


End file.
